Hong Kong Phooey - Superior Defense
by DrDirt01
Summary: A mysterious agent, a klutzy dog, and the Midtown Police department. How did it begin?


* Thanks to all the compliments on my previous work.

This one is set before it, which due to how fanfiction orders articles, actually comes out in the right order. The characters are not my own, and other standard disclaimers apply.

**Introduction**

A skilled Asian figure snuck up carefully on the military base, the result of weeks of careful preparation. The military had tried hard to keep the "Superior Defense" initiative secret, but little could be kept from "the Ca" for very long. Genetically enhancing animals to supplement the military was clever indeed, but military secrets are the most fleeting of all. With his efforts, China would soon possess it.

He had timed his passage through the fence and around the gate perfectly, and had already arranged for a flaw in the security system to get him into a building. There he could get to the lab he wanted. At the door, he relished that everything had gone perfectly according to plan.

Except for the loud explosion as part of the base blew up. The wall in front of him suddenly started coming apart and flying towards him. He put his hand up to shield his face, and a shower of former wall materials buried itself in his hand, as well as to a lesser degree the rest of his body. The wailing of the alarms covered the brief shriek of pain that overcame his discipline.

He staggered out in the general chaos of the base evacuation, stunned on multiple levels. He managed to escape, but knew a priceless opportunity had been lost. How could the Americans have known he was coming? Was the information that important that they had been willing to blow up a military base to avoid risking it falling into his hands? He boarded the plane with his hastily-bandaged hand, but suspected even the best surgeons in China could not save that hand. Events later proved him right, as he would have a mechanical hand for future missions. He would be known as "The Claw", or with his accented English, "The Craw".

Well out of earshot of the base or the airplane taking off, another loud noise was erupting at a place called Midtown, where the Police Commissioner was launching his tirade at the staff of the 8th Precinct after yet another miserable quarter.

After his customary comments about the lack of results, the general dirtiness of the place, and the general lack of quality of its occupants, he fixed them both with a steely glare, and said, "If I don't see some improvements here, I'm going to shut this place down". After he stomped out, a depressed Rosemary went over to the noticeably fat cat laying out the window sill. He came there every day, and the non-dynamic duo of Corporal Flint and her had adopted Spot as their station mascot. She stroked him and sighed about their situation. Spot purred and looked sympathetic.

**Arrival of Penry**

The fat cat on the window sill of the police station did what he did best, "Contemplating". Other people might call it dozing, or enjoying the feel of the sun against his striped fur. Being the mascot was an easy enough way to get free food, and gave him plenty of time to think. Today he would reminisce on his own odd name of "Spot".

The Superior Defense initiative had started with modifying a Great Dane to have greater intelligence and a limited ability to speak. Unfortunately, he had turned out to be a coward, and the Colonel had wound up giving the militarily-useless dog away, "SD" dog tag and all.

Focusing on fighting qualities now, the next result was Penrod, a dog of unquestioned courage and will, but also "extremely lacking in common sense" and danger-prone. The Colonel first learned that when the new pup spilled his water dish into an electrical outlet, blacking out the base for a few hours.

Worse, the Colonel was heading to the mess hall for an overdue dinner when he felt a sudden blast of hot air, and people spilling hurriedly out of the building. A flicker inside soon told him why, the kitchen was on fire! As the fire team arrived on the scene, he walked away dejected knowing anything on the menu would be "flambe".

After a few more Penry "incidents", the Colonel changed the next scheduled project, code-named "Spot", from a dog to a cat. After dealing with Penry, they focused on intelligence. The cat was indeed that, but little else. He was lazy as all getup, and could not speak beyond normal cat sounds, except for an ability to whistle human-style. He and Penry got along well, and complemented each other's weaknesses.

Except for one time when Spot had stopped to scratch in the hallway. Penry was up ahead and noticed the light in the ammunition room was out. Being the good-hardhearted type he was, he resolved to fix it. Confounded by the darkness, he lit a newspaper to use as a torch while he examined the light.

Next thing Spot knew, there was smoke coming out of the room, and Project Penrod barreling out of the room yelling frantically. For once, Spot abandoned his customary sloth and tore down the hallway as fast as 4 paws could carry him. They dove under the bed in someone's quarters, as a series of explosions rocked the building. Various fragments rained down on the bed, but they were unharmed.

At least until the Colonel found out who the culprit was. Actually, there wasn't much physical harm, but the Colonel personally led them across the pock-marked base to what was left of the front gate, and unceremonially booted them both out. In his case, it was guilt by association, but Spot missed Penry anyway. Last he had seen him, Penry was sneaking on a ship to Hong Kong to seek his fortunes. Spot hoped it didn't sink.

Gauging from the commotion at the train station, Penry had apparently drifted into down. He had trained to be a martial-artist, but his Master had christened him "Hong Kong Phooey". He had come into town with his red kimono and a diploma, but little else.

As Corporal Flint and Rosemary were discussing their options on how to avoid their impeding early retirement, Spot finally knew what to do for his friend. He swiped an application form and a pen off the desk and headed off to the abandoned building where Penry stayed. He and Penry had their normal "conversation", which consisted of Spot pantomiming and Penry guessing what Spot was getting at. After a few tries, he got it, "I'm already super, and the police are already heroes. If I work at the police station as a janitor, I'll find out about crimes in progress and solve them as a super-hero". He filled out the application, pausing to think about complicated fields like "Gender".

Confident in his winning resume, he strode into the 8th Precinct Police Station. Corporal Flint was initially taken aback with a talking dog, but Rosemary thought it was cute and nobody else had applied, so Flint hired him on the spot, ignoring the nagging feeling that he was going to regret this. At least they could get the office cleaned up.

Meanwhile, the Claw re-entered the United States, with a new plan. The SD project was finished, along with the base and various careers, but the Colonel was still around. He would find a way to kidnap him and force the details out of him. For that, he would need a woman in a suitable position. He found her in the Colonel's aide Leticia. Despite his claw-like hand, he was confident his charm skills were up to it.

**Rise and Fall of Rosemary**

As phone operator, Rosemary had plenty of time to think between the rare calls about how to improve the popularity of the station. She decided to play a hunch. Sensing a call coming in, she let her hair out of the bun and flow down her shoulders. Sure enough, the line buzzed. She plugged the line in, laid back in the chair, and stretched out her long and shapely legs. The caller wouldn't see this of course, but he would hear the deep, husky voice, "Hello...Hello... Police Department. This is Rosemary, the luscious lady law-person speaking. How may I HELP you...". After a noticeable pause, she took down some information and sweetly sent the caller on his way.

Corporal Flint's jaw dropped. He didn't even know she was capable of that. She didn't look old enough to be legal, for anything. After the call, when he regained his composure and his normal gruff attitude, he commented, "Why don't you just call yourself 'Jail bait'".

Then a miracle happened, the switchboard buzzed again. Still stinging a bit, Rosemary connected and said, "Police Department. Jail bait speaking. I attract 'em, the Corporal busts 'em". The light above the line abruptly went out. She turned to Flint in mock shock, "He hung up".

Flint just turned away, thinking "Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut". Rosemary thought, "Maybe I went too far, but I think I've got something here". Over the calls coming more frequently now, she adjusted her technique. Sounding cute, but not too promiscuous, seemed to work best.

"Hello, hello. Police Department. This is Rosemary, the pink nails on the hand of Justice speaking.". She certainly made law enforcement more comfortable to call. She was soon the department's unofficial spokesperson. Penry initially found the contradiction of her large glasses with her tight uniform took a bit of getting used to, but she was a nice person and it gave her an unusual bit of charm.

The police ball was coming up, and having some contacts inside local security might help with the Colonel's take-down, so the Claw convinced his new girlfriend Leticia to attend. Since Flint's birthday was close to the ball, with typical department efficiency the Commissioner mentioned that his celebration would be part of it.

There was a new fad starting up, paper dresses. You could draw on them, tape things to them, and personalize them in all sorts of ways. Women all over town were doing it, and it was kind of presumed they would be expected at the ball. Rosemary got a simple white one, cut out several construction-paper hearts, taped them on, and drew hearts with crayons in other places. She attached a few bows, and the dress was ready to go.

Flint too was preparing - a short birthday speech that he practiced and scratched various things out of. He made sure his uniform was properly pressed. He also made sure that dumb pooch Henry (what kind of name was Penry?) knew that he was expected to help during the occasion and help clean up afterwards.

The day arrived, the evening arrived, and the hall filled up with dashing men and crinkling ladies. Leticia came in well coordinated black and gold ribbons, paper, and even tiny bells, and was considered the Queen of the ball. The music played, and the food was plenty - and good. The centerpiece was Flint's imposing cake, with it's 33 candles making an impressive flickering display.

A person with a good impending sense of disaster would have sensed something coming, but if there were such people there, they had already left. Inevitably, someone in a paper dress brushed by the cake. A candle fell off and hit the dress, abruptly starting up a new candle. That person collided with Rosemary in an initial panic, and the 2 women went flailing around the room, setting various dresses on fire. By the time there were 33 new candles, Henry figured out what to do. While people were trying to douse the fires with water glasses, he dashed out and uncoiled a fire hose.

With a great sense of heroic determination, he came back to the now pandemonium of feminine shrieks and masculine cursing. Henry turned the valve and sprayed the room, not realizing the tremendous power of what he was holding. The tenor and volume of the shrieks soon changed as flames got exchanged for cold sopping wetness. People of all genders were soon milling around the room for a different reason. One swipe of the barely controlled hose blasted the cake into globby bits, coating several nearby people.

An unexpected tinkling of bells caused Henry to turn to the side, and spotting Leticia's hair on fire, gave her a full blast of cold water all over. Sputtering and coughing, she bounced off a wall, and staggered to the doorway shivering, mind bouncing between shock and rage.

Out of the general chaos came a loud "HENRY!". The Corporal almost looked cute with the top portion of the cake on his head like a weird top hat. A lone candle flickered on top. But the booming voice brought Henry back to his senses, and he switched off the valve. For some moments, the only sound in the room was multiple drippings.

Then the wet paper dresses started disintegrating. Sleeves and lower edges started falling off, and the milling around started up again, as well as various shrill and unpleasant comments. Soon there were women crowding for the exits in various states of impending indecency, as whole sections started falling apart. Their men often crowded close behind, maneuvering themselves to block some of the view.

Rosemary gave Henry a particularly piercing stare as hearts were falling off, but a growing draftiness soon forced her to join the crowd at the door. Henry ducked out through the kitchen thinking, "She is going to be frosty in the morning".

The Claw should have checked that particular weather report, before he asked the soggy and now bell-less Leticia what happened. Her only answer was a slap as she stalked off. Her not returning his phone calls over the following days told him this particular operation was over. Flying back from another unsuccessful mission, he took comfort only his pride was injured this time. The Colonel was no longer accessible. Clearly he would have to go higher up to limit the damage, and for that he would need an assassin.

The next morning, it was a noticeably more nasal voice that answered the switchboard, "Hello, Hello. This is Rosemary, the sweetheart of the Sheriff's office". It didn't seem possible to Henry, but Corporal Flint was even gruffer than usual. Rosemary's icy stare even sent Spot to flight (guilt by association again!). He joined Henry who was already hiding in the Secret HQ, commonly known as a forgotten storeroom. Pity there wasn't a bed to hide under.

**Presidential Visit**

The Claw arrived back in the U.S. in force, determined not to fail again. He had his henchman Bobo, and Aun Tar-get, an expert assassin. The President had signed the Executive Order creating SD, and he would remove any further support, and not by introducing lead into a gas tank. At least not exactly.

The President was visiting Midtown as a stop on his re-election campaign, and that seemed a good place to set up the ambush. He shuddered a moment as he remembered "The Great Paper Dress Fire", but that did not weaken his resolve.

In said historic site, Henry the Janitor came into the Secret HQ to see Spot poring over various papers from the filing cabinet, and today's newspaper beside it on the floor. Spot pretty much ignored his entrance. Oh well, at least the filing cabinet would be easier to get into. Henry jumped into the bottom drawer, and a few seconds later the someday-famous crimefighter Hong Kong Phooey popped out the top, in his favored red robe. Even the apparent miracle of the filing cabinet not getting stuck didn't get his attention, so HK finally spoke:

"Watcha reading, faithful police cat?". Spot pointed to an old newspaper article, which had a picture of a man with a bleeding hand leaving the SD base. Being a product of SD, he tended to keep a whisker out for anything involving it. He then pointed to a more recent newspaper picture of a Asian man with a mechanical hand escorting Leticia to the police ball. HK shuddered a moment at that. The pictures were a bit grainy, but even Phooey could see some resemblance between the men. Spot then pointed at the newspaper headlines of the President's visit, and traced the letters "SD" over it. "So you think somebody is going to take a swipe at the President?". Spot nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you are researching this. Reading is important", he said in his best superhero voice. "But I got to go out and fight crime now. Somebody is robbing bird nests." With that, HK lowered the ironing board and proceeded with his normal nose-smushing exit.

The marksman went up to the 2nd floor of the abandoned restaurant, and checked the window. It indeed had a nice view of a small section of the street the President was expected to travel down. He pulled out his rifle and peered through the scope. Satisfied, he went back downstairs. The Asian force of evil known as "The Craw" (actually the Claw, but nobody ever got it right) was waiting for him. "It should be no problem at all", he reported, and went on his way.

When Hong Kong Phooey came back, some bird droppings on his uniform, he saw Spot was still at it. There was now a police file on the floor about someone called "The Claw", and a map of the town. Spot motioned him over. He traced over the route of the presidential motorcade on the map, and pointed a claw at a particular building repeatedly. "So you think someone will ambush the President from there?", HK questioned. Spot nodded yes and pointed to the police file. "The parade will be there in half an hour.". Spot pointed to the ironing board. "Oh man, I hoping to clean up first". Pause. "Well, I've always heard crime-fighting was a dirty job".

**Showdown**

Hong Kong Phooey and his loyal side-cat Spot approached the building ready for battle. If Spot's deductions were right, this is where the Craw was hiding out. All sorts of questions flowed through HK's mind. What evil scheme was he planning? How did he pick the idiotic name "the Craw"? Crawfish? What should I have for lunch? Fish or chicken? A nudge from Spot reminded his wandering mind he had more pressing issues.

He pulled out his trusty Hong Kong Book of Kung Fu, and flipped through the pages looking for the best way to open locked doors. Actually he was just looking for something with a picture of a door, but he didn't mention that. "Ah, here it is. 'The simple way in is usually the best way in'".

Phooey re-sheathed the book in his sleeve. He yelled his karate battle cry and launched into a flying kick at the door. Spot was moving off to a more cautious approach from the side, but paused a little bit in surprise that the door actually flew open and HK wasn't laying on his back on the doormat.

The red-clad superhero landed a bit clumsily on his feet, and quickly brought himself to a menacing fighting stance. "You are under arrest, Mr. Craw", he triumphantly stated. The Claw started up with his famous, "Not the Craw, the Craw", but gave it up in mid-way, and motioned Bobo to attack. Bobo was clearly at least 6 times HK's volume, so it was soon obvious this was not going to be an easy fight. HK's flurry of punches merely ruffled his clothes. Bobo's big hand swatted him toward the wall.

Spot had climbed in a side window unnoticed and was looking around the kitchen for an idea, as Phooey got back up and charged in to do the "Laotian leg sweep", but the book hadn't mentioned that it didn't work against someone whose legs were a lot bigger around than yours. Or he had forgotten to remember that part. Bobo shook him off his leg with a kick that gave HK more flying dog practice that ended with a slightly deeper impression in the same section of wall he had been introduced to a bit ago.

Hong Kong Phooey was nothing if not a fighter (good thing) and was soon back up and charging in again. His plan was so secret even he didn't know it, but it didn't matter. The Craw had pointed his magnetic hand toward the kitchen, and metal utensils, mostly forks, soon clanged into his hand. He made a magnetically enhanced throwing motion towards Phooey and a barrage of potentially pointy objects was on the way.

Being able to change course in mid-air was a handy skill that HK had learned the hard way from previous encounters, and he landed with a diving roll. The hail of dinnerware ending up sticking in the Phooey-shaped impression on the wall, but he only needed to pull an errant fork out of his robe. Bobo wasn't a target, but still wasn't so lucky. A knife had stuck his pant leg to the floor, and he tripped.

Spot was feeling a bit frantic himself as Bobo got back up. He noticed a pack of matches laying on the counter, and was lost in a trip down memory lane. Henry blowing up the base. The trashing of the Frisco Fire Department. The Great Paper Dress Fire. A smile crossed his face with the thought "Phooey and Phire don't mix".

As Phooey and Bobo circled each other for the next round, Spot rushed toward them, matchbook in hand. He lit one and handed it to Hong Kong Phooey. While Phooey stood there with a "what am I supposed to do with this?" expression, Spot dived out the front door.

As Spot expected, there was soon smoke streaming out the door and the flickering of flames inside. As Spot also expected, Bobo and Craw were soon heading out the side door. They crossed under a power line, not noticing Spot's recent addition - an electro-magnet. Craw soon flew upward with a clang. His hand was insulated, but he still received enough voltage to be jinking around madly and calling for help. Bobo grabbed him, which soon proved to be a 10,000 volt mistake. A quick erratic dance around himself, and then falling to the ground unconscious. "The Craw" wasn't going anywhere for a while.

As Spot should have expected, HK got lost in the smoke and headed for the wrong door. He opened it to reveal a stairway leading up. With the way behind sealed off by the flames, he closed the door and headed up the stairs.

Meanwhile the assassin wrinkled his nose in puzzlement. Somebody cooking downstairs? And doing a terrible job, he thought. He set the gun against the window and went to the door to investigate. A Phooey in a hurry slammed the door open right into him, knocking him down. Ever the alert superhero, he raced over to the open window and threw the rifle out. A single "bang" interrupted the stillness as the gun hit the ground. Against the suddenly frantic background noise, HK yelled "sorry". It was doubtful anyone heard him.

He turned to face his rising opponent, the anger in his eyes seemingly unconcerned about the smoke wisping into the room. "Prepare to face Hong Kong justice", he said as he launched his flying kick. He missed, of course, and the two danced around the room trying to land a blow. Meanwhile, ever increasing smoke was coming into the room. As a good assassin should, he memorized the layout of the area, including the canvas below the window. Maneuvering toward the window, he leaped out. What he had failed to memorize was the structural strength of the canvas. He crashed through, landing with a hard thud and a broken leg. He winced and looked up - into the irate face of Corporal Flint, who glanced up to a bullet hole in his cap.

"I wasn't aiming at you", he hastily blurted. "Er, I mean it was that idiot who threw my gun out the window". "Let me rephrase that... Oh, forget it, I've incriminated myself enough today". The large corporal grabbed him by the shirt, picked him up, and carried him off.

Meanwhile the "victorious" Hong Kong Phooey looked helplessly at the flames coming into the room. A broken leg being preferable to slow cooking, he closed his eyes and jumped out the window... and landed in the arms of the surprised fireman whose ladder was coming up to the window.

TV cameras followed the ladder on the truck lowering back to the ground. A somewhat sooty red-uniformed and white-spotted dog waved to the camera, and "Hong Kong Phooey" became a nationally known figure. By now, everyone knew that someone was trying to assassinate the President, and HK was brought for Presidential congratulations for stopping him.

"So where is that fellow who was trying to kill me?". "Right here, sir", Flint said as he marched up with assassin dangling. Phooey came up and joined the group, saying in his ever-encouraging way, "Corporal Flint, I see you are still upholding justice... And other things".

The President looked at the bullet hole in Flint's cap, turned to the Police Commissioner by his side, and said, "Could you do me a favor and make that 'Sergeant'?". "As soon as I get back to the office, Mr. President".

By this point, the crowd was cheering Hong Kong Phooey, who was returning the adoration with bows and smiles. The Presidential motorcade had stopped in the commotion when the President came off, but the escorting agents still looked around vigilantly.

Seeing the red-robed dog, one asked, "Who is this super-hero?". "The new Sergeant?", suggested the other. "No", the first one nodded. "Rosemary, the telephone operator?" was the next suggestion. "No". "Henry, the mild-mannered Janitor?". The leader, a retired Colonel, squeaked barely audibly, "Could be". They went back to scanning the crowd.

Meanwhile, Spot had led some of Midtown's finest recruits to the dangling Craw and his unconscious henchman. Bobo was quickly cuffed, and gloved troopers carefully lowered Craw down. Other than babbling incoherently, he gave them no resistance as they cuffed him and carried him too off to the police van.

The President ushered Hong Kong Phooey toward the waiting Cadillac, and motioned him to take his place. HK happily climbed in and the car took off slowly, ticker tape raining down and band music playing. He flashed Nixon-like victory signs and generally had a good time taking in the adoration. The President stood back and bemusedly shook his head.

*** Ending music ***


End file.
